


Branner Hall, Room 116

by anotherwinchesterfangirl



Series: Stanford-Era Ramblings [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 04:35:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4773761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherwinchesterfangirl/pseuds/anotherwinchesterfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Sometimes after classes were done on a Friday, Sam would meet Jess at her room and they would squeeze into the extra long twin bed together, his long limbs completely enveloping her, and they would sleep the afternoon away. At first, it seemed like Sam would jerk awake at any little movement Jess made, but after a while he started to feel safe there in the little bed with her snuggled against him. There in that dorm room bed was some of the best sleep he ever got." </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Branner Hall, Room 116

Sam was everywhere, all around her, as she fumbled with her keys, trying to get the door open, but becoming increasingly distracted by what his hands were doing and his mouth warm on the back of her neck and how wet her panties were becoming. She pressed her thighs together and firmly said, “Sam.”

“Sorry,” he replied, a little sheepish, and dropped his hands from her breasts to her hips. He kept them still for about ten seconds before he couldn’t anymore, and he dug his fingers in, pulling her back against his chest, dotting more wet kisses between her hairline and the collar of her shirt. It was enough time for Jess to get the door open though, and they tumbled inside in a tangle, bags and books dropping to the floor. Sam kicked the door shut behind them and Jess wanted to get the light, but Sam pulled her against him, her back to his front, pushing her shirt up and pulling it over her head, then pulling the clip out of her hair, letting the curls cascade down around her shoulders. He nuzzled his face into the blonde strands and inhaled.

“Your hair smells so good,” he mumbled, his hands on her breasts thumbing her nipples through her bra. Jess giggled a little and arched her back into his touch, thoroughly enjoying the jolts of pleasure running through her body. She reached behind herself and rubbed her palm against the bulge in Sam’s jeans, making him groan against her ear and grip her even tighter.

She had yet to feel him inside her, and she was more than ready. She didn’t think she’d ever wanted anyone as much as she wanted Sam.

She spun in Sam’s arms, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, and pulled his face to hers for a full, open-mouthed kiss, her other hand snaking under his Stanford t-shirt, pushing it up. Soon his shirt and her bra were also on the floor. When she pressed up against him, he growled a little, a low sound in the back of his throat, and slid his hands down to the backs of her thighs and lifted her up. She shrieked in surprise and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she kissed him. He set her on the bed gently and then tumbled down over her, catching himself with his strong forearms on either side of her head. His mouth was all over her, her collarbone, her breasts, her nipples; his hand popped the button on her jeans and slid inside, long fingers slipping through the wetness. She was wound so tight, she thought she might explode.

She sat up slightly, hands at Sam’s belt, undoing it quickly and pushing his pants down past his hips. He looked at her, a scorching look up and down her half naked body, making her shiver with want.

“Jess…” Sam’s voice was low and rough, needy. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Sam, yes. I want this.” And she pulled him back against her mouth.

That was the first night Sam slept in Jess’s bed, but not the last.

Sometimes after classes were done on a Friday, Sam would meet Jess at her room and they would squeeze into the extra long twin bed together, his long limbs completely enveloping her, and they would sleep the afternoon away. At first, it seemed like Sam would jerk awake at any little movement Jess made, but after a while he started to feel safe there in the little bed with her snuggled against him. There in that dorm room bed was some of the best sleep he ever got.

Jess usually woke first, a little overheated from having Sam wrapped around her, and she loved to kiss him awake, his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead, his lips. And she would run her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp, until he slowly woke up. “Let’s go to dinner,” she would purr, even though the sun was already setting. Sometimes they would get up, clean up a little so they looked less sleep-rumpled, and meet their friends at the Student Union for greasy burgers and beer. But often, they never made it out of the room.

“I know what I want for dinner,” Sam would growl and he would grab Jess around the waist, roll her onto her back and bury his head between her thighs until she was gripping the headboard, the sheets, his hair, whatever she could get her hands on, and screaming his name. Jess’s roommate would come back late, stumbling drunk and partied out, to find them eating a makeshift dinner of easy mac and pop-tarts at Jess’s desk.

They studied there together, books spread out across the bed, her feet in Sam’s lap, his fingers massaging the arches as he quizzed her on french vocabulary. They would watch movies on her tiny TV—Moulin Rouge and The Notebook and Legally Blonde—all of Jess’s favorites. The amount of the movie they would actually see was a direct correlation to whether or not Jess’s roommate was in the room at the time. One weekend, between Christmas and New Years when they didn’t have anything else to do and Jess’s roommate was gone, and Sam convinced Jess that she needed to see all the Star Wars movies. They stocked up on popcorn and soda and ordered in pizza and stayed wrapped in blankets and each other for three days straight, making out and napping between each movie, staying up late and sleeping half the day away. That weekend is still among Sam’s favorite memories.

They christened nearly every surface of that dorm room over the next few months. Jess perched on the edge of the desk, hands braced behind her as Sam held her hips steady and pumped into her, short and quick. Up against the wall next to the window, her long, tan legs wrapped around his waist, painted fingernails digging into his bare shoulders, blinds rattling with the force of Sam’s thrusts. An afternoon quickie with her bent over the back of the desk chair. Slow and easy while spooning on the futon under the flickering blue light of the TV. On the floor with Jess on top, her hands on his chest, full breasts bouncing, full lips in a perfect pink _O_ shape as she came (Sam had rug burn on his ass for days afterward).

That dorm room was also where they had one of their first fights. Jess wanted to take Sam home to meet her parents, and Sam was not in favor of the idea.

“Sam, if we’re going to be living together next year, my parents are going to want to meet you at least once. I don’t understand why you’re being so weird about this.” Jess was throwing items into her duffel bag, obviously irritated. This was the third conversation they’d had on the subject, Sam had already said he would come, but he kept backing out and she didn’t understand why. She hadn’t been home in months, had been too busy with classes and her job and Sam, but she missed her parents and her little sister and she wanted them to meet Sam, to see how amazing he was, to see how she was falling in love with him.

“Jess, it’s not that. I’d just rather stay—I have tons of work to get done.” He was grasping at straws, trying to think of any excuse to get out of the trip. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to meet her family, it was just that no matter how hard he tried, even though he’d been at Stanford for two years, been with Jess for six months, was actually kind of settled for the first time in his life, he couldn’t shake feeling of the nomadic lifestyle that he’d grown up with. He wasn’t used to relationships lasting; he wasn’t used to meeting parents and moving in together and letting his walls down, letting someone else get to know him as well as Jess was starting to know him. As much as he’d wanted it, it was still a little terrifying. He’d never tell Jess about hunting; as far as she knew his father was a mechanic that drank too much and his brother was a dropout that had joined the family business. But other than that she knew pretty much everything there was to know about him, and it was scaring the crap out of him.

Jess stuffed the last shirt into her bag and looked up in time to catch the scared look that crossed Sam’s face, and her anger dissipated. She went to stand in front of him, slid her hands into his and squeezed.

“Sam, please?” she said, her voice soft now. “Please come. It means a lot to me.”

He did end up going, and he had a great time. Her parents were very welcoming, and it was the most relaxed he’d been in years. When they got back, after Sam had helped Jess carry her bags up to her room, he stood in the doorway for a second, just watching the back of her while she put away some of the food her mom had sent back with her, and then he grabbed her wrist, spun her around and pulled her up against him, kissed her softly, and finally said the words that had been on the tip of his tongue all weekend.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated! :)


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